Over in a Flash
by Erzsebeth Bathory
Summary: Two years before the summer of 1987, David is the one to find the bloodied werewolf alone inside of a crypt. This story is my own quick take behind the fang that Dwayne wears. One-shot.


_Summer, 1985_

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David knew he shouldn't have been to one to find the lifeless body of the werewolf. Lying in a pool of blood, he was actually surprised to see the large creature still retaining this form. He assumed that when the wolf was dead, it would reveal its human guise to the world. He encountered, fought, and won against enough of them to know that much.

Smoke from the many arrows buried in the sleek, thick fur of the beast arose, and as David knelt down in front of it, he decided it was better that he was the one to discover this and not...

A whimper was heard from the supposed corpse, and a pair of wet brown eyes locked onto David's form. Once they blazed with fury every time they looked at him, and understandably so. Vampires and werewolves were never meant to be anything more than mortal enemies. This particular wolf, however, proved that the old saying, _"Never say never"_ was absolutely possible.

Dark clouds drifted across the sky and pale moonlight shone through the bars of the old crypt. Just as the light revealed the dying she-wolf, David watched as she morphed for the last time. The dark pelt and muscular exterior of the mythical animal melted away to reveal the broken and beaten naked body of a young woman. The arrows embedded in her were deep; even if they were all pulled out, the silver in each tip had already done the lethal damage within her. Like holy water to the vampire, silver to werewolves was deadly.

She started to move her arm, but David gently placed a gloved hand over her wrist.

"Don't," he urged, but she weakly insisted otherwise, and so he took his hand back. He silently watched as she feebly dragged her hand toward her chest, her fingers slowly dancing around in her own blood. Then she held out her open palm to the vampire.

It was a single stained crimson fang.

The she-wolf's body trembled and David took the morbid offering. He knew it came from her own mouth, undoubtedly broken off during the violent fight that would mortally wound her.

Her arm dropped and she collapsed face first into the blood.

"Marie...!" David called out, wanting to reach out to her once more, only to stop himself. It was no use. If she'd been a mortal human, he could've tried to save her. He would have used his blood, made her drink it, and turn her into a half-vampire, thus giving her a second chance at surviving. But werewolves? There was a reason why vampires and werewolves were not meant to be. They were incompatible in many, many ways. Unless dark magic was involved, a werewolf drinking vampire blood would do nothing, just as having a wolf bite a vampire wouldn't curse them into becoming one of them. Biologically, they were not meant to complement one another.

Emotionally, though, **_that_** was a different story.

David stared at the single fang that Marie gave him before perishing.

Dwayne.

His brother cared deeply for the female, despite their species' toxic histories with one another. It was a rocky start, and nobody expected their relationship with one another to blossom as it did, let alone her relationship with their entire group, to last long at all. She surprised them in ways they never imagined. He could still remember the last time they joked around together, right before everything fell apart.

 _David, you need a hellhound. Your head vampire has one, but not you guys!? How about this: I'll be your very first hellhound! You never know who's gonna try and sneak into your cave while you sleep! Humans are tricky things! But with me guarding you? You won't have to worry about a thing!_

David would hardly ever admit to being sorry for anything. Everything he did, he had reason for doing it. He had to give this girl a hard time, even if she hadn't been a werewolf. Anybody who attempted to get close to his gang needed to prove themselves worthy. She had scratched and clawed (literally and figuratively) her way to earn a special place with them, as the first non-human to build a connection with them-only for all of it be taken away before her life could truly begin. It had been recently learned that she was only a few years younger than Paul. She was a grown woman in many ways, but also agonizingly young and naïve at the same time.

After placing the fang into his pant pocket, David removed his duster jacket and draped it over Marie's corpse. He would get it back later when he returned with the others to give her a proper burial. Dwayne had to say good-bye to his beloved, after all.

He rose from the cement floor and proceeded to walk out of the cold, dusty crypt. As he pushed open the iron gate, however, he spoke aloud as if somehow Marie could still hear him.

"You would've made an excellent hellhound for us."

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 **Author's note:** This is my attempt at writing my OC into TLB verse all by my lonesome... AND I HAVE HER DIE. Maybe in the future I'll write out everything that will lead back to this very one-shot, but for now, this is going to be it. I wanted to get this out of my system for some time because everyone else has fun bringing their OCs into the fanfic world, so why not join in on the fun with my own character?


End file.
